


a rush, and a quiet fall

by redluxite (wordstruck)



Series: VLD One-Shots [6]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, Matt and the other Paladins mentioned but minor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 17:07:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13171395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordstruck/pseuds/redluxite
Summary: Somewhere in the middle of everything, Shiro looks at Keith under the sunlight and thinks,yeah, okay.Maybe he’s matched up too much of himself to Keith’s uneven edges, but they fit.Or, a uni!AU one-shot.





	a rush, and a quiet fall

**Author's Note:**

> i can't remember how many times i've tweeted about shiro drunkenly singing cheesy songs for keith (eg [just today](https://twitter.com/okw_tr/status/945982537741910016), for example), but i finally got around to writing it into a fic. it's... _set_ in their university days (and after) but like, it's not really about them being _in_ university. it's a whole lotta cute, though.
> 
> written after a brief twit conversation with [@sun_god_rising](https://twitter.com/sun_god_rising), this seems to happen a lot.
> 
> (me, staring, horrified, at the amount of sheith fluff i've somehow been prompted into writing: who am i)

* * *

 

  

The first time Keith meets Shiro, he’s singing.

Keith isn’t the biggest fan of going to Allura’s parties -- there’s always too many people, too much noise, and he prefers spending Friday nights putting in work on his bike or actually studying. He’s sometimes persuaded by the occasion or the random urge to cut loose for a while, but on the whole, Keith would really rather not.

“You’re coming anyway,” Allura says, and pats him on the shoulder.

“I’ll be there,” Pidge adds with a shrug. “And Matt’s bringing friends.”

Keith looks from Allura to Pidge, to the floor, and sighs.

He’s going anyway.

 

Keith locates Allura in the crowd by locating Lance.

His classmate’s voice carries over the music, and Keith snakes his way between people until he finds Allura, Lance, and Hunk near the booze table. Keith doesn’t remember what the occasion is (something vaguely related to sports?) but it seems Coran’s put out some good stuff. There’s already a pretty flush on Allura’s skin as she rolls her eyes at something Lance is saying, but the corners of her mouth are turning up. Hunk is shaking his head.

Keith sneaks a hand around Hunk to snag a bottle of beer.

“You’re late,” Allura says, mock-frowning at him.

“Yeah, man, you missed my whole story!” Lance comes round to sling an arm over Keith’s shoulders, which Keith just as easily shrugs off.

“Doubt I’d have wanted to hear it in the first place,” he quips. Hunk snorts into his beer.

“Probably not,” he agrees. Lance looks at him, wounded.

Keith ducks out of the conversation before Lance can get started; he can come find them again later. “Where’s Pidge?”

“With her brother, I think,” Allura says, gesturing to the narrow stairs that lead to the rec room below.

Keith dodges Lance’s attempt to pull him back in and waves his beer. “See you guys later.”

 

Pidge is indeed downstairs in the rec room with her brother. And Matt Holt has indeed brought friends.

One friend has a shock of white hair on his forehead, the black sides buzzed down; a light scar over his nose; and the biggest biceps Keith has seen.

He’s also got an _amazing_ voice.

Buzzcut has commandeered the mic to Allura’s karaoke setup, much to the apparent delight of the half-a-dozen other people in the tiny room. His hair is already plastered to his forehead, he’s got his red flannel shirt tied around his waist, and even in the dim light Keith can see the alcohol flush on his cheeks.

He’s also currently belting out The Calling’s _Wherever You Will Go,_ and while it’s cheesy as hell Keith can admit he could have gone much worse.

Plus, he sounds great.

Buzzcut turns just as Keith steps through the doorway, and they lock eyes just as Buzzcut starts to sing the pre-chorus.

_“Way up high, or down low,_ ” he croons, as a slow smile spreads across his face, and Keith has to check behind him for any other person because is Buzzcut looking at _him?_ “ _I’ll go wherever you will go._ ”

Buzzcut is definitely looking at him.

Most of the people in the room are, probably.

“ _Run away with my heart,_ ” Buzzcut sings, and honest-to-god _winks_ at Keith. “ _Run away with my hope, run away with my love._ ”

Keith almost books it right back up the stairs.

Almost.

 

“I’m Shiro,” is what the guy says, after he’s tossed the mic over to Matt (who promptly loses it to another friend, because Matt should never be allowed to sing, and especially not into amplifying devices). _Shiro,_ as in Takashi Shirogane, as in the senior who’s captain of the Garrison Galaxies, their university football team. Shiro who is currently a little bit drunk, and smiling at Keith in a way that crinkles the corners of his grey eyes.

Keith manages not to stutter over his name in response.

“Keith?” Shiro blinks, pulls back a bit, corner of his mouth quirking up. “As in Kogane?”

Keith nods, perplexed.

“Oh, _you’re_ Prodigy,” Shiro says with a grin, and Keith groans.

“ _Matt,_ ” he hisses, making to get up and go for Pidge’s brother, because _what_ has he been saying about Keith _this time._

“Easy, easy.” Shiro laughs, pulls Keith back into their corner of the room by the wrist. It’s a nice laugh, Keith thinks; carefree. Shiro’s hand takes a little bit too long to let go. “He hasn’t said anything bad, I promise.”

Keith glares at the back of his friend’s head from across the room for good measure. It has the added benefit of making Shiro laugh harder.

“How do you even know Matt?” he asks when Shiro’s calmed down, because Matt is not the type to hang out with athletes, not the least because Matt is not athletic in the slightest. Matt looks like a good wind could knock him flat on his face.

“We share a few classes.” Shiro replies, one shoulder lifting in a shrug. “He’s a good guy, Matt. Smart as hell.”

Keith mulls this over, then nods. Matt wins people over easily with his horribly earnest personality, and Shiro seems like a very sincere person. He can definitely see why they’d click.

He hopes Shiro doesn’t ask how _Keith_ knows Matt, because it’s a very long story and it doesn’t make Keith look very good. And a small part of him kind of really wants to make a good impression on this guy.

(Or as good an impression he can make after whatever Matt’s said about him.)

“So,” Shiro drawls, wide smile and mischievous expression. Keith braces himself for the worst.

“When did _Prodigy_ even start?”

 

Keith ends up staying a good few hours, ensconced in that corner of the rec room with Shiro. They talk, just talk, but it’s a better time than Keith’s had at any party in a while. He begs off a little past midnight, says he has to be up early in the morning. It makes Shiro snort, but he gets up, follows Keith up the stairs. Waits while Keith says goodbye to a smirking Allura, a very plastered Lance, and a fondly amused Hunk. Shiro even walks Keith to the door.

“I do know where the exit is,” Keith says dryly, one eyebrow raised as Shiro holds the door open for him.

“What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t do this, at least?” Shiro retorts.

The light alcohol flush is a good look on him. Keith maybe wants to kiss him, see if he tastes like strawberry vodka.

“Good night, Shiro,” he says instead, smiling.

 

 

(What he doesn’t know: Shiro had maybe wanted to kiss him, too.)

 

 

On the following Tuesday, he leaves his Physics 72 lab to find Shiro standing outside the classroom. Keith stares at the dark grey Henley with the sleeves rolled to the elbows, the lightly distressed jeans. Shiro bites his lower lip, looking a little sheepish.

“I didn’t get to ask,” he says, “at the party. Your number.”

Keith levels him with the most deadpan look he can muster. “So you got my schedule instead.”

“Matt told me where to find you.” Shiro sells their common friend out without even blinking. Keith almost snorts in laughter, because this guy is entirely too sincere for his own good. He gestures for Shiro’s phone instead.

“I, ah.” There’s pink high on Shiro’s cheeks, the tips of his ears. It shouldn’t be this endearing. “Was hoping I could get it over coffee.

Keith blinks.

“My treat?” Shiro adds, ridiculously hopeful in a way that reminds Keith of a Golden Retriever.

Keith exhales and tries not to smile, because _really._

“Fine,” he concedes, because he’s not one to turn down coffee and because Shiro. Also, he’s kind of hungry.

Shiro’s answering grin makes for one more reason, too.

 

They end up at a small cafe a little ways out from the campus. At least six people inside call out to Shiro, and he politely waves back. Keith discovers his new favorite ham and cheese Danish pastry.

Shiro gets a milk moustache from his latte, which makes Keith collapse into a loose-limbed kind of laughter. It is, for Shiro, absolutely breathtaking.

Keith ends up giving his number and an agreement to meet again on Friday.

 

 

Shiro takes him to a burger joint the next time, and Keith picks Thai the time after that.

They fall into step, into rhythm. An easy give-and-take.

Shiro hands Keith a ticket for the upcoming game, a clash between the university league’s top two teams.

 

The first time they kiss, they’re outside the Garrison’s home pitch, and Shiro should honestly be back with his team for the rest of the post-game debrief.

But Keith is warm against him, pressed between Shiro and the BMW F800 bike. The sun brings out the freckles on Keith’s cheeks, his shoulders in the thin black tank top. Keith tastes like Coke and a quiet afternoon.

Shiro knows where he wants to be.

(Besides, he’d scored two of his team’s four goals, so he figures he’s allowed some leeway.)

 

Keith finds out that Shiro sings, absent-mindedly, when he’s lost in thought or studying.

He watches as the man hums to himself while they study in the library, Keith with his million physics problem sets and Shiro with a stack of anthropology readings as thick as his arm.

_Junebug, skipping like a stone,_ Shiro murmurs along to the song playing on his phone.

Keith doodles a smiley face on Shiro’s notebook.

The library is quiet.

 

 

It goes like this: a rush at the beginning, as they come together, and then a quiet fall.

 

Shiro learns what Keith is like in the mornings, how he’s not a whole person until he’s had coffee. He drops in the engineering labs, sees that _Prodigy_ is a nickname well-earned. He picks up on Keith’s fondness for strawberry-flavored desserts, on his somewhat retro-themed fashion sense; on the way Keith keeps all things personal close to his chest, for all that he’s let himself be dragged into a ragtag group of friends. There is always a gap, like Keith permanently holds the world at arm’s length.

Shiro sees that and thinks, _okay._

He doesn’t mind staying beside Keith until Keith decides to pull him in a little closer.

 

Keith hears Shiro sing more, all over the place – in his tiny kitchen as he makes pancakes, at more parties; in the car, as his stereo plays The Killers. He watches the football games, feels the thrill up his spine as Shiro feints with the ball at his feet, slams it home for a goal. He discovers that Shiro has a sweet tooth; that he’s here on an athletic scholarship and the rest of his family’s up in San Diego.

He learns the quiet, painful story behind the scar. He kisses Shiro, soft, easy. Until the hands that shake in his grip go steady, until they push their way through his hair and pin him close.

He stays the night, once, and then again, and again.

 

 

Keith is big, tentative dreams in a wiry body, an uncertain hope.

Shiro is simple pleasures and plans, a steadiness and warmth.

They’re not the best, but they make it work.

 

 

A year later finds them like this:

Shiro’s accepted an offer to play with Marmora FC. The Blades are a good team, looking for new blood. It’s good money, a good immediate future.

Keith starts his thesis, takes on RA duties under Professor Kolivan. He learns to want things for himself, to make the effort to get them.

 

 

Somewhere in the middle of everything, Shiro looks at Keith under the sunlight and thinks, _yeah, okay._

Maybe he’s matched up too much of himself to Keith’s uneven edges, but they fit.

 

 

They’re back in the rec room, at another party. The football season is on break. Allura’s with them this time, head thrown back in laughter as Pidge whispers something to her. Matt’s dropped by after his work at the engineering department’s lab.

Shiro has again commandeered the karaoke mic, and is doing his level best to murder Keith with secondhand embarrassment.

When Keith sees _Can’t Take My Eyes Off Of You_ come on screen, he doesn’t know what he wants to do more – shut off the whole TV system or sink into the ground.

“ _You’re just too good to be true,_ ” Shiro croons amid friendly jibes and whoops. “ _Can’t take my eyes off of you._ ”

“Shiro.” Keith has his hands adamantly plastered to his face, trying not to groan out loud.

“ _You’d feel like heaven to touch, I wanna hold you so much._ ”

“Shiro please.” Keith knows what he’ll see if he peers through his fingers. Red high on his cheeks, wide smile, bright eyes – Shiro’s best look is easy happiness.

“ _You’re just too good to be true._ ” Shiro’s voice wavers as he tries not to laugh. Keith can already feel the smile tugging at his lips. “ _Can’t take my eyes off of you._ ”

Keith looks up just in time to see Shiro take a deep breath.

“ _I love you, baby,_ ” he belts, and Keith _does_ groan, “ _and if it’s quite all right—_ ”

“It’s not.”

“— _I need you, baby, to warm the lonely nights—_ ”

“I’m breaking up with you.”

“ _—I love you, baby, tr—_ ”

 

Shiro doesn’t get to finish the rest of the chorus, or the song, but he doesn’t really mind. Keith’s struggling too much not to laugh, and Shiro’s smiling too hard, for the kiss to be anything proper.

But Keith’s heart feels like a supernova, and Shiro’s hand on his cheek is warm.

 

Shiro wakes up the next morning with an awful headache, cotton mouth, and a mouthful of Keith’s hair.

“G’morning,” he mumbles, and tries to go back to sleep.

“Heavy,” Keith mutters, and shoves him off.

Shiro’s play-whine does not convince him to come back to bed.

As Keith totters off to the bathroom (or kitchen, or somewhere, Shiro’s not entirely sure) – Shiro pulls a pillow over his head and settles back into the sheets, smiling faintly. He scrunches his eyes shut and tries to doze off, but the throbbing in his head makes it difficult. He hears Keith come back, rustles and movements, then a calloused hand pats his forearm.

“Here, you idiot,” but the jab is rendered moot by the fondness in Keith’s voice.

Shiro peeks under the pillows to see Keith holding out two aspirin. There’s a mug of water on the bedside table.

_Ah._

He knocks back the meds, takes a long draught of water while Keith wanders back out of the bedroom. Shiro’s settled back against the headboard with his eyes closed, willing his head to subside, when the smell of toast and coffee wafts in.

“Oh my god,” he groans, taking deep breaths and reaching out blindly for breakfast. “ _Marry me,_ you’re too good.”

“Yeah, okay.” There’s the clink of a plate on wood beside him. Shiro opens his eyes. Keith is looking at him wryly, but there’s affection in his eyes and the quirk of his mouth.

In the morning sunlight, he’s beautiful.

“I – what,” Shiro says, inelegantly.

“Yeah, okay” and Keith’s mouth twists like he’s trying not to laugh, or maybe trying not to kiss Shiro. “Okay, I’ll marry you.”

It’s 9am on a Saturday. The sunlight streams through the curtains. There’s a faint sound of television from the flat below Shiro’s. And Keith is looking at him with a lifetime’s worth of something immeasurable.

Shiro’s heart feels a little too big for his chest.

“Uh – okay.” Shiro feels a little knocked sideways. Keith is really laughing now, loose-limbed and easy. Shiro pulls him down onto the bed and wrestles him into the sheets, play-bites at a skinny shoulder before kissing Keith, until they’re breathless.

_Okay._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! ^_^
> 
> Come say hi on social media -- I'm [@okw_tr](https://twitter.com/okw_tr) on Twitter and [yurochkas](https://yurochkas.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. You can check there for ways to support my writing/art.


End file.
